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Author: Imogen Story: Alpha and Omega Rating: Young Teens Setting: Pre-OotP Status: Completed Reviews: 5 Words: 99,172
Chapter 14: The Morning After "Talking in bed ought to be easiest… An emblem of two people being honest." ~ Philip Larkin: "Talking in Bed" Harry contentedly stirred in his sleep, a haze of semi-conscious happiness surrounded him as he lay cocooned in the cosiness of his bed. He shifted slightly, suddenly aware of a warm weight entwined in his arms, breath brushing lightly across his chest. His eyes flickered open, to the blur of red beside him. Ginny. He blinked sleepily, his brain sluggishly moving, cog-by-cog. All the same, he was fairly certain that there had been no nightmare to warrant her stealing into his dormitory in the dead of night as she so often did. Recollections flitted through his drowsy mind, of Dumbledore's darkened room, Ginny's nervous face illuminated by magical starlight, her dark eyes staring lovingly into his. He smiled dreamily and hugged her closer to him, not wanting to wake her just yet. He froze suddenly as his fingers encountered the warmth of bare skin rather than her familiar crisp cotton nightdress. His eyes snapped fully open, breathing suddenly shallow. They hadn't… had they? He frowned, noticing for the first time that their surroundings were most definitely not those of Gryffindor Tower, and his brain suddenly hurtled into fast forward. The sprites, the wedding, the chess game, and… and… oh, they had. He felt the heat rushing into his cheeks as various images burned into his brain. He glanced down at the slumbering form beside him, fearfully wondering what she would think when she woke. She shuffled slightly towards him in her sleep, and made the little sighing, snuffling noise that always made him smile. He watched her breathing, the steady evenness of the sound lulling him into a sense of security. The shafts of golden early morning sunlight gleamed in through the high window, casting dappled patterns of light and shadow across the room. A small smile spread across her lips, fascinating Harry and making him yearn to kiss her. Wondering what she was dreaming of, he smoothed her hair back from her face, lifting it gently and letting it cascade onto the pillow beside her, encapsulating sparkling life in the soft rays of sun. Crimson, russet, copper, ochre, titian, a host of reds beyond name, intermingled as they tumbled silently onto the white linen. His… wife. Unable to resist it any longer, Harry kissed her lightly on her nose, settling back to simply enjoy holding her whilst she slept. Long lashes flickered, quivering slightly, before sleepy dark brown eyes emerged beneath the lids, smiling up at him. "Harry," she murmured quietly, stretching through a half-stifled yawn. "What time's it? I've fallen asleep again, haven't I?" "Not exactly," Harry said, blushing furiously. "We're not… er… we're not in Gryffindor Tower." Her eyes widened quickly, and she propped herself up on an elbow to survey the room. She bit her lip and turned back to Harry, her cheeks flushing as she clutched the covers to her. Harry instantly felt a sweeping sensation of guilt; perhaps they had rushed into this too quickly for her. He opened his mouth to say something, but Ginny interrupted him with a mischievous giggle. "Don't you dare apologise!" she insisted cheerfully, making Harry do a double take. It appeared that she had developed the ability to read his mind. "Yesterday was absolutely perfect. All of it." "It was?" he queried uncertainly. "Gin, I… I… want everything to be right for you. You're not just saying that, are you?" "Don't be silly," she smiled, cuddling back into him. "Harry, we're married. Tell me honestly, is there anything you'd like more?" "No," he admitted, kissing her and searching the loving brown eyes opposite his own. He knew it then. This was everything as it should be. He laughed suddenly, and added, "But all the same, this was a bit of a shock when I woke up this morning." "Just a bit," she giggled, squirming beneath his touch as he tickled her ribs. "Stop it," she giggled, slapping him affectionately. She ran a hand thoughtfully across his shoulder, and glanced up at him with a devilish glint in her eye. "So how long do you reckon it'll take before we stop blushing about it all?" she asked. "About eighty years or so," he grinned. "You know, it's nice not having you galloping off in a flat panic first thing in the morning. I could get used to this." "I wish we could," she sighed, suddenly sounding rather wistful. Her fingers ran lightly over the scarring at the top of his arm and her face became suddenly serious. "Voldemort's got a lot to answer for. All I want to do is be with you, and even that seems to be asking too much some days." "Ginny," he said, feeling an aching pang inside him. "It will work out. It has to. One day we'll get a shot at a normal life together, where we can do anything we want and not be checking over our shoulders every few seconds, waiting for the axe to fall. I don't care what I have to do; we will have a future, you and me. I want that more than anything. Just you… and our baby." He paused for a second as the idea suddenly sank in. "Gin," he said, even more urgently. "You don't think…?" "No, I try not to think," she teased, tousling his hair. "Anyway, Mum said that it could take months, so I don't think we need to worry about the baby just yet." She kissed him gently and sat up again, surveying the room before she wriggled swiftly out of bed, leaving Harry feeling quite bereft. "Gin?" Harry reached his arm out for her again. "I don't know about you, but I'm ravenous," she smiled, stretching across to kiss him. With that somewhat unromantic thought clearly uppermost in her mind, she slid into Harry's discarded shirt, the cotton garment falling halfway to her knees. She carefully rolled the cuffs back, and shook her hair free from the neck, looking to all intents and purposes as if she belonged in it. "Ginny!" he protested, laughing at her actions. "You can't steal all my clothes." "Well, I can hardly wear my dress before I repair it, can I?" she chuckled, picking up the offending item and holding it out to him. Harry blushed. "You don't know the strength of your own magic," she teased, padding softly over to the door and opening it a fraction, to allow her to peer into the little lobby beyond. She gave a triumphant yell and disappeared, re-emerging a few seconds later with a steaming breakfast tray and a wide grin. She kicked the door shut with her heel. "Success!" she crowed, carrying the tray over to him. "Are you OK with crumbs in the bed, or would you prefer a picnic by the fire?" "Here's fine," Harry said, reaching for his glasses and cautiously hauling himself into a sitting position, so that nothing was spilled. "You want any tea?" Ginny nodded, and settled herself comfortably on the quilt, facing him. Hot buttered toast was consumed in vast quantities as they chattered about everything, ranging from the magical splendour of their marriage, to the forthcoming Quidditch match against Slytherin in a couple of weeks. At length the conversation turned to what could be done to gain revenge on Ron and Hermione for the torture they'd put them through. "Tempting as it is to charm my brother's shoes into hopping around like frogs, the embarrassment factor's simply not enough," Ginny giggled, setting her teacup down on the bedside table. "I want to see the pair of them squirm." "I agree totally, but we'll have to be careful not to get caught," Harry chuckled. "Just remember, we've still got that detention with Snape tomorrow night, and as much as I love spending time with you, I can think of things other than disembowelling slugs that I'd prefer to be doing." "Oh yes?" She raised a seductive eyebrow. "Yes," he murmured in a lower voice, pulling her closer to him and kissing her deeply. "We've got to go back later this afternoon, and it'd be a shame not to make the most of the time we've got left together, wouldn't it?" "Most definitely," she replied, smiling at him with her eyes twinkling in impish mischief. "I'll just go and set the chess board up then, shall I?" ***** The long corridor was lit by flickering candlelight, portraits beginning to nod sleepily in their frames along the oak panelled walls. Two figures stood silently, hand in hand, unable to turn back, and unwilling to move forward. Harry regarded the faded red carpet beneath his feet, and prodded the woven border restlessly with his toe before finally turning to Ginny. "We've got to," he said despondently, squeezing her hand. "I know," she whispered. "I know we have to, but I don't want to. Everything's been just so wonderful, I can't bear it to end. " "Me neither," he agreed gloomily. "But what else can we do? We've just got to take what we can for now." Harry felt as if he were being torn in two as he felt her fling herself at him. He held her closely, trying to soothe her, raining gentle kisses on her forehead. This was so unfair. How were they meant to carry on as nothing had happened when all he wanted to do was yell from the rooftops that she was his wife; tell the world that she loved him? He lifted her chin, and gazed steadily into her tumultuous eyes. "I promise it's not going to be for long. You just keep that ring safe, and I'll put it back on your finger as soon as we can." "You too," she nodded, sounding slightly shaky. She threw her hair back over her shoulders and took a steadying breath. "Right," she said firmly. "Let's get this over with." "Just one thing first," Harry smiled, hugging her tightly once more and burying his head in her hair. "I love you Mrs Potter." "Oh Harry," she whispered, her voice cracking slightly. "Potter, Miss Weasley." Professor McGonagall's authoritative tones resounded along the corridor, making them spring guiltily apart. Ginny furiously brushed her hand across her face, blinking back the tears that were threatening to fall. "You really must desist from these public displays of affection in the corridors. As prefects, I expect better of you both." "Sorry, Professor" Harry said, bracing himself for the lecture which was bound to follow. "Just be thankful it wasn't Professor Snape who caught you this time," Professor McGonagall continued, with a flicker of a smile crossing her stern features. "There is nothing further I propose to do about the matter, on this occasion at least. However, bearing in mind your absence this weekend, I would suggest that it may be prudent to complete your homework this evening before incurring further wrath from the teaching staff." "I suppose so," Ginny said quietly, collecting her bag from the floor before turning back to face the portrait of the Fat Lady in the pink dress. "Harry?" "Coming," Harry responded, moving to join her. "Good to have you back," Professor McGonagall commented with a flash of real warmth. She nodded approvingly at the pair of them and turned to head down the small passageway to her own rooms. Harry watched the figure disappear into the distance and raised his eyebrows at Ginny, who burst into giggles. "Are you going to stand there all day?" a voice quavered impatiently. "Password?" "Cassiopeia," Harry responded automatically, and with a sigh of exasperation, the Fat Lady swung open, revealing the cosiness of the Common Room beyond. Scrambling through the portrait hole after Ginny, Harry straightened up, surveying the scene around them. It was relatively quiet for that time on a Sunday evening, and clusters of students sat scratching away at various pieces of homework, or laughing in groups over various games and conversations. A niggling fear in the back of his mind expected the room to fall silent at their appearance, hundreds of eyes staring at them, knowing every last detail of their weekend. However, as it was, no one took any notice of them, and they slunk quickly into an empty corner, well away from the general hub of activity. "Back to normal, then," Ginny smiled wistfully, pulling her homework out of her bag. "Looks like it," Harry agreed, groaning aloud when he saw what he had to do. "Divination," he explained, the single word conveying the deepest abyss of horror. "I'll stick with History of Magic," she giggled, unscrewing the top from her ink bottle, and dipping her quill in. "The 1492 Elvish Code of Conduct was an unmitigated failure. Discuss." "Bearing in mind they almost wiped out the entire Ministry of Magic in protest, I think that is a pretty fair comment," Harry laughed, rummaging for his own quill. "Hello!" A sudden voice made Harry almost leap out of his skin. He swung round to see Ron leaning over the back of his chair grinning mischievously down at the pair of them. "I didn't know you were back. Good weekend, was it?" "You could say that," Harry responded, flushing instantly, and burying his face in his textbook in the vain hope that Ron would go away. Ron, however, sprawled comfortably across the sofa and beamed at them in such a way that Harry squirmed. "So," Ron said, drawing out the single syllable as long as possible. "You found where you were going all right? No getting lost and having to ask for directions?" He sniggered, and Harry felt his face beginning to glow. "Leave it, Ron," Ginny hissed angrily at her brother. "Leave what?" Ron said innocently, looking around him with an air of exaggerated surprise. "I'm just enquiring after the welfare of my little sister. Nothing wrong with that, is there?" "Thank you for your concern," Ginny said through gritted teeth. "I am delighted to inform you that everything went perfectly according to plan, unlike some people I could mention." Harry looked up sharply, just in time to see Ron beginning to turn a deep shade of crimson. "And unless you want me to tell you all the gory details you'd really rather not hear," she continued in a low tone, "I suggest you drop that subject, right now, Ron Weasley." "I-I can see you're busy," Ron stuttered after a few seconds silence. He regarded Ginny, then Harry and reddened further. "I think I'd better go." "Stay," Harry grinned at him, and threw his copy of "Tarot and The Future" at his best friend. "Just stop being a prat about it, and help me make up some predictions for Trelawney. I'll never get this homework done otherwise." "Fair enough," Ron laughed a little before opening the volume, the furious colour staining his cheeks beginning to subside. "How about being gored to death by a stray unicorn? Lots of blood and agony in that one." "Perfect," said Harry, picking up his quill. ***** Dashing down the hallway from Charms the following day, it seemed like the events of the weekend had been merely a fantasy; a blissful mirage that evaporated as soon as he tried to touch it. Every now and then he drifted off into happy daydreams of Ginny, a particularly pleasant distraction from the dry and pointless historical facts delivered by Professor Binns. Once his heart had been lifted by a fleeting glimpse of her heading in the opposite direction with her classmates for Care of Magical Creatures, muffled against the bitter cold of the November morning, but other than that it had been the same old monotonous drudge of lessons. He charged down the marble staircase, taking the steps three at a time in a desperate attempt to reach the Potions dungeon before Snape started his lesson. Professor Flitwick had kept him behind with the kindest of intentions, asking after Sirius, and fondly recollecting the days when he had taught him. It had been easier in the days before Sirius had been pardoned, Harry reflected, as he swung round the newel post at the foot of the stairs and skidded sideways across the marble floor, slipping slightly as he scrambled to the door leading down to the dungeons. His pounding footsteps echoed down the narrow stone passageways, sconces flickering in the draught as he passed by. A final twisting corner and he reached the classroom, noting with a sinking heart that the heavy wooden door was already firmly closed. Panting for breath, Harry grasped the heavy iron ring and twisted it. The lock clicked open, and he attempted to creep unobtrusively inside. "So good of you to join us, Potter," the cold and scornful tones of Professor Snape greeted him. "Are you sure it's not too much trouble?" "I'm sorry, but…" Harry began, but Snape cut him off. "There's always some excuse, isn't there, Potter. Sit down. Ten points from Gryffindor." Harry slunk furiously into his seat beside Hermione, who shot him a sympathetic smile. "We tried to tell him," she whispered beneath her breath as Snape continued the introduction to his lesson on healing potions. Harry nodded, still inwardly seething at the treatment that had just been meted out to him in typical Snape-like fashion, yet despite his fury, he found himself strangely interested in the lesson for once. Potions like this could be very useful indeed, especially given the current environment beyond the castle walls. He listened intently and began to take notes. The remainder of the lesson passed with predictable malice, but Harry was relieved that at least it was purely a theory lesson. Anything meaning that Snape didn't have to blast one of his limbs away so they could see if they had brewed their potions correctly, could only be a bonus. "See you at dinner," Ron commiserated, as he stuffed his things into his bag at the end of the lesson. "Hope detention's not too horrible." "He's only doing it now so we can't have Quidditch practise tonight," Harry grumbled bitterly about the early hour of his confinement. "I had the pitch booked and everything. Anything to give Slytherin the advantage." "It's only one night, and you're miles better than they are," Hermione said bracingly, throwing her bag over her shoulder. She grinned at him and added, "Besides, you were asking for it, snogging Ginny in the middle of the main stairwell." Harry blushed, and watched them all troop out of the dungeon, nudges and sniggers emanating from the Slytherins in the group, leaving him alone in stony silence with Snape. "Here, Potter," Snape said brusquely, handing him a large basin of scarab beetles. "These need to be crushed into the finest powder, otherwise they are entirely useless. None of your usual slip-shod cutting of corners, or you will do them all again." Harry silently grasped a couple of the shiny bronze beetles, and threw them into his mortar, crushing them vigorously with the pestle, pulverising them, and grinding them to dust as if they were Snape himself. His hatred for the Potions Master knew no bounds, and Snape regarded Harry in much the same way. Several portraits around the walls watched in sympathy, and Snape tapped his long fingers impatiently on the desk, a secretive smile playing across his lips as he regarded the door. At length a knock sounded, and the door flew open to admit a flurry of vibrantly red hair and black robes. "Sorry," Ginny gasped, trying to catch her breath. "I had to run all the way down here from Herbology." "Miss Weasley," Snape said, gesturing to a bench on the opposite side of the dungeon. "Do take a seat." Ginny did as she was bid, sneaking a glance to where Harry was working and exchanging a grin. Harry felt some of his anger evaporate. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad after all. He knew from experience that Snape rarely supervised them during detention, preferring to retreat to his office until the various chores were complete. This could actually be some pleasant time for them, away from the bustle of the rest of the school. He emptied the powder almost cheerfully into an empty basin, and began the process again with fresh beetles. "Dragons' heart," Snape said, placing the shining, slimy crimson muscle in front of Ginny. "To be diced into exactly equal sizes, no more than half an inch in any direction." Ginny nodded, and picked up the knife on the board, immediately settling down to work her way through the punishment. Snape watched her for a few moments, and then turned to go. He paused on the threshold to his little office, his mouth twisted into a smile. "Just one final thing," he said, with an air of triumph. "These two potions ingredients do not react well when they come into contact, and unless you wish to be on the receiving end of some rather unpleasant and painful injuries I would advise you to stay well away from each other." With a small chuckle he disappeared into his office, leaving Harry and Ginny staring at each other in horror. "Great," Harry broke the silence at last. "Just what we needed." "It's one well planned detention," Ginny admitted. "I'm impressed." "Impressed?" Harry echoed incredulously. "Yes," she giggled. "He's actually found a way to stop us snogging, and I never thought that would be possible" Harry laughed, and shook his head at her. "Come on, Harry. Let's just get this done and get back. Once we've washed all the traces of the ingredients off it won't be a problem." "Yeah, I s'pose so," he agreed reluctantly, crushing the scarab beetles with a venomous loathing once more. All was silent for some time, as they focused on completing their tasks, until a clanking and crashing noise made Harry look up. The picture that hung on the wall beside him was that of a luxurious eighteenth salon usually containing two gossiping society witches. On this particular occasion the scene was devoid of life with the single exception of a shining silvery figure lying prostrate on the ornate rug. Harry watched in amusement as the tiny knight struggled back to his feet amidst noises that sounded exactly like Mrs Weasley emptying her saucepan cupboard. He swept his hair back from his flushed face and surveyed the dungeon before him, smiling winningly as he laid eyes on Ginny. "My lady," he said reverently, with a flourishing bow so low that he had difficulty in straightening out. His armour creaked and groaned as he struggled upright again. Ginny giggled, and moved over to see him. "Gawain," she smiled. "What on earth are you doing all the way down here?" "Where danger lurks, there I shall follow," the tiny knight proclaimed seriously. He knelt awkwardly amidst further clanking. "My service I offer you; my life is at your behest." "Hang on a minute," Harry protested, flinging down his pestle. "If there's any protecting to be done around here, I want to do it. Get your sword and clear off and go and save someone else." "Harry!" Ginny protested. "Command me, fair maiden," the knight said, squeaking as he leaned forward on his bended knee. He flashed a white smile at her. "A labour of love, a quest, I beg of you." "Gawain," Ginny said, with a worried glance at Harry. "It's really nice of you, but…" "But she doesn't want you hanging around her," Harry interrupted, his mood worsening by the minute. "I beseech you," Gawain pleaded, shooting a withering glance at Harry. "Let me win your hand with brave and valiant deeds. I will dare to vanquish even dragons for you." "Try Voldemort," Harry growled. "I'm so sorry, Gawain," she said softly. "I can't. I love Harry." The diminutive knight squeaked and screeched to his feet, clutching his plumed helmet helplessly in his hand. He looked at her through saddened wallflower-blue eyes. "This scurvy knave," he muttered grimly. "Yes, this scurvy knave," she smiled adoringly at Harry and making him suddenly feel rather guilty. "Thank you for the offer, Gawain, but I am sure there are ladies more deserving of your attentions around the castle." She reached her hand over to clasp Harry's but stopped dead, suddenly remembering the problem with the potions ingredients. She giggled slightly and blew him a kiss, before returning to her seat. "Come on to Ginny again like that, and I'll find some turpentine and a rag. Do I make myself clear?" Harry hissed, determined to settle the matter once and for all. The tiny knight gulped and sank down onto the chaise longue with a defeated crashing noise, and propped his chin on his hands, watching the rest of their detention with the soulful melancholy of unrequited love.
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